Libertas
by God Tier
Summary: Alfred finds a book in Arthur's study one night, and he goes to Arthur for comfort.


"Good night, Alfred. Sleep well." Arthur called, Alfred closed his eyes tightly, huddled in his blankets. Slowly, he heard the door close, the lock clicking as it shifted into place.

Alfred uncurled himself from under the covers, and looked around him. His room was dark, the moonlight filtering in from the window in the south part of his room.

The white walls glinted, without his glasses, he couldn't see quite well. So he reached on his nightstand, and grabbed the black lenses. Shifting them, he adjusted to the night light.

White rays of light filtered through the glass, and slowly, he swung his feet over the tall and comfy bed.

_What Arthur doesn't know wont kill him._ He thought to himself. His feet made contact with the cold wooden floor, careful not to make any noise. Arthur's room was just down the hall from his, and he didn't want to wake him.

Alfred made his way to the ebony wood door of his bedroom. He curled his hand around the golden knob, and slowly turned it. He pushed the door open, and the dark hallway was glowing with moonlight.

The blond walked out of the bedroom, his white pyjama-clad arm slowly falling to his side.

He made his way downstairs, and into Arthur's study.

Surely Arthur wouldn't mind him.. poking around, right? Shaking away any devious thoughts, he saw the brown desk that was cluttered with papers. Arthur's job had certainly taken it's toll on his tidyness. Alfred felt disheveled, and Arthur had dared to tell him he needed to clean his room?

He felt a feral growl rise in his throat, but he pushed it down.

Alfred heard something fall. He turned his head around to see some boxes had tipped over, he rushed over to the boxes. A black book with gold letters was the only one that had fallen out. He picked it up, and flipped it over.

**The castle of Ontranto**

___Manfred, Prince of Otranto, had one son and one daughter: the latter, a most beautiful virgin, aged eighteen, was called Matilda. Conrad, the son, was three years younger, a homely youth, sickly, and of no promising disposition; yet he was the darling of his father, who never showed any symptoms of affection to Matilda. _

_Alfred read the first paragraph. Matilda..? _What was that?

He decided to keep on reading.

Alfred got to page 12, and his eyes widened. His hands shook, and then his eyes began to shake.

Shutting his eyes, he threw the book at the wall. Alfred's whole body began to shake, and he stood up, and wrapped his tiny hands around his

shoulders. He slowly walked out of Arthur's study, and back to the staircase. He looked back at the study, then dashed up the stairs.

The night was cool and calm, raining, although that was to be expected of October. A wide bright moon pressed gently at the curtains, turning everything to dappled shadow. Arthur rolled over, pulling his duvet close, his arm pushing under his pillow.

He sighed in his sleep.

"..thur... Arthur.. wake up."

Arthur pressed his face into his pillow, blocking out the sound.

"Arthur!" a shout shattered the tranquil stillness of the house and Arthur sat bolt upright, swaying slightly from the rush of blood to his head and blinked through the night, instantly awake.

Another whimpering yell and he was knocked sideways, a quivering lump attaching itself to his waist. "Arthur! Ah... Arthur..." he sat back up gingerly, running a hand through dirty blond hair and maneuvered his attacker to face him.

"Alfred?"

Alfred glanced at him, his blue eyes dark and wet with tears, only to look down at his lap, fiddling with his hand. He mumbled an apology. Arthur blinked again, his mind slowly catching up, and lifted Alfred's chin. Some tears fell, which he brushed away with his thumbs, pulling the boy into a hug.

Alfred's arms circled his waist and held on tight, his face buried into Arthur's shoulder. "What happened?"

"Arthur.." There was a sob and Alfred's grip tightened, squirming his way into Arhtur's lap, one long pyjama-clad leg either side of Arthur's hips. Arthur blushed, stroking the boy's hair. "Alfred, tell me." Alfred shook his head quickly, sniffling.

"It's stupid," he muttered into Arthur's night shirt, "you'll get mad at me.."

"I wont, as long as you didn't break anything," Arthur replied, voice quiet. He pulled back and gave Alfred a tired smile.

_What time was it?_ Alfred didn't look at him; he was still shivering, bringing a hand up to wipe his wet cheeks.

"Sorry..." he mumbled into the bed covers, Sorry I woke you." Arthur allowed himself a genuine chuckle, too tired to be angry.

"Quite alright, now will you tell me what happened?" He wrapped his arm around Alfred's waist and prodded him in the side. Alfred stifled a giggle.

"It was a scary book.." Ah. So he had gotten to his collection of 18th century gothic literature.. Figures, the boy couldn't keep his nose out of anything.

Arthur smiled fondly. "It was about.. _vampires_," Alfred whispered, giving Arthur a wide eyed stare, hugging him a little tighter. Arhtur sighed, willing himself to be annoyed. He couldn't manage it, not even a glare, Alfred was just too...

"You should know better than to read my books without asking, Alfred. I'm surprised you even understood it," he said, sounding just irritated nough for Alfred to knot his eyebrows and look ashamed.

"I understood the scary parts..." he murmured quietly.

"And just what were you doing reading at this unholy hour of the night? You should be asleep! Why were you even in my study?" Alfred closed his big blue eyes, head hanging dejectedly. He hated when Arthur got mad... Pulling his legs awkwardly back to his body, he sat still on the bed, embracing his knees.

Arthur looked at Alfred; he was a lot bigger than he remembered. How long had it been since he had really looked at him? Alfred's legs were to long for his body, his arms bony, his shoulders too broad. His blush deepened. "Do you.. uh.." Alfred's head whipped up, hopeful. "Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?" Arthur asked, voice much weaker than he would have liked. He was met with a brilliant grin and another bone-crushing hug. Blimey, when had he become so strong?

"Thank you, Arthur," Alfred smiled, pulling up the duvet and plunging his feet inside. Arhtur nodded and shuffled down the bed, laying his head back on the pillow, exhaustion washing over him. Alfred grinned lopsidedly, trying not to yawn, and cuddled into his side, his arm around Arthur's waist. Without any hesitation, Arthur leant into him and kissed him on the forehead, brushing his golden fringe from his eyes, as he had done when Alfred was afraid and had to sleep with him, years ago.

Alfred smiled and shut his eyes.

Not that it was strange, well it was strange, sort of. They;d share a bed countless times, but Arthur still felt his blush intensify, his stomach chrun uncomfortably as his little friend nuzzled his sandy head into his chest. Not so little anymore, he thought sadly. Quite large, suddenly teenage, scared-of-vampires young boy... He shut his emerald eyes, unsure where to put his hands for a moment. He settled for Alfred's back, stroking slowly, feeling another smile against his torso.

"Arthur?" Alfred asked quietly. His eyes shone through the gloom, like sapphires.

"Hm?"

"What does li-liber.. libertas mean?" Arhtur opened an eye and raised an eyebrow. Odd question. Alfred's face was screwed up in concentration. "It said it in the book.." he asid.

"It means freedom in Latin," Arthur said, voice hushed against the darkness. Alfred frowned. "It's when people are at liberty to live and think as they wish, without fear of discrimination or oppression by others. In a nutshell." Arthur explained to the boy.

"Oh.." Arthur shut his eyes again, relaxing into the pillow. I like the sound of that.

He didn't know why at that moment, and he wouldn't know until many years later, but Arthur's heart flipped. The blood rang in his ears and his eyes flew open. Alfred was lying against him, still and peaceful. What did that mean? Was he-? He didn't want to..? His thoughts battled agaisnt each other, his hand stoking Alfred's back mmechanically. Well of course, he had the right to freedom, everyone did. But he was Arthur's.. Arthurs! All his!

Alfred interrupted his internal struggle, then keeping his eyes closed he whispered into Arthur's stiped shirt. "I'm sorry I get scared, Arthur." he said.

The Englishman swallowed. "I'll be better when I'm older, I think. I'll be _stronger_."

"A-Alfred.. I don't mind-" Arthur began.

"And I will be brave, and so will many people. We'll be brave together so I wont get scared." Arthur's heart thumped. Alfred had never referred to anyone as his.. "We will be free." he said.

Arthur looked down, suddenly painfully aware of just how deep Alfred's voice had got, of the course sprinkling of fair hair on his chin. Bloody hell. "I'll be free..." Alfred muttered, yawnign fully, his voice trailed off.

Arthru let his mouth hang open so he could breathe more easily. The room felt dark and calmmy. Alfred was growing up, how could he not have noticed... or maybe, just maybe, he had noticed and refused to accept it. They'd been together for such a long time; it couldn't possibly end like this... But surely, Alfred didn't understand the connotations of what he said, did he?

He let out a strange choking noise that he disguised as a cough. His little boy, the tiny smiling boy from the wheat fields was fast becoming a young man, and it terrified him. Nothing at that moment had ever scared him more, no war, no death, no crisis, no loss. Just Alfred...

Unaware of the torment Arthur was going through, Alfred fell asleep quickly. He always did in Arthur's arms. His thoughts occupied him, sinking ever deeper into blissful slumber, when he felt two familiar lips touch his forehead for the second time. They lingered for longer than usual, needy and trembling slight, whispering inaudible words against his skin. Four words that Arthur didn't think he'd every say to anyone, let alone his Alfred.

"_Please don't leave me._"


End file.
